


The Problem with Yukio Okumura

by BitterPill



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Gen, and everyone else being pawns, doing his time shenanigans, lord of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterPill/pseuds/BitterPill
Summary: What to do when your chess pieces just won't chess properly.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	The Problem with Yukio Okumura

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be longer, but then I realised I just wanted to write a pissed off Mephisto, so there you go.
> 
> And I like Yukio a lot more than this story implies, I swear.

The first few times, it can only be expected. Humans are, after all, first and foremost prone to doing what they want. It takes time to channel them in the right directions. It takes time to find the direction to channel them.

Mephisto has been doing this longer than most.

He has, in fact, been doing this longer than any other being in existence.

Which makes it somehow even more galling when he has to watch True Cross Academy go up in flames _yet again_. Physically, on this particular occasion, not only metaphorically. He was prepared for the Vatican to go, but _really_. There are acceptable losses, and then there’s this.

He hates it, and loves it, when he doesn’t see things coming.

“Mephisto!” a voice calls. And well, isn’t that just the last person he should be left alone with right now?

“Mr. Okumura,” he greets, ever the gentleman.

The bullets that follow are predictable and easily dodged.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks, stalking inexorably closer as he peels off his gloves and throws them aside to disappear in a puff.

Mr. Okumura does not answer and continues to shoot. Right up until Mephisto suddenly appears within arm’s reach (well, it was time-slowing shenanigans but, really, what’s the point of this little confrontation if he can’t inject any drama into it?). Mephisto pushes the gun away to shoot harmlessly into the air, and with his other hand he smacks Okumura across the face, sending him to the ground.

Before the boy can get up, Mephisto holds him down with a foot on his chest. This, at least, is cathartic. When all the world goes to Hell, there’s at least some time to let loose. “Don’t worry, Father,” he says, looking him in the eye, “I’m not fool enough to kill him.”

“Don’t talk through me!” Yukio yells.

Mephisto rolls his eyes. “Oh _now_ you open up? At the end of everything when all is lost? I have to hand it to you, that is some dramatic irony.” He presses down harder with his foot and Yukio struggles beneath it, only able to breathe the precise amount Mehpisto allows him.

Demons aren’t (generally) the vindictive malevolence humans think, but no one treats a splinter well after they’ve pulled it from under their skin.

Yukio claws at Mephisto’s ankle with desperate anger. He reaches for his remaining gun, but Mephisto disappears that to a safe little dimension of its own. He doesn’t even bother with a poof because this show is over, it’s done, all that’s left is for the stagehand to sweep the stage with a broom.

And for Mephisto to give some direction.

“I have ignored you. I have given you everything you could have wanted. I have coached you centimetre by nauseating centimetre into healthy, happy relationships. I have taken you under my wing. I have told you everything, answered all your questions, in so many ways.”

Yukio’s face, twisted in fury and hatred, takes on a confused lilt. And Mephisto should be flattered that they all think he could do this well on his first try, but really he’s just _disappointed_.

Mephisto leans down, brings his face closer to Yukio’s, pressing just that little bit harder on his chest. He grabs the boy’s face in his hand, claws unsheathed and cutting more blemishes into his face. “How,” Mephisto says through clenched, sharpened teeth, “Do I get you where I want you.”

Yukio struggles and only succeeds in causing blood to run down his cheek. He takes a restricted breath. “I will never.” Another short breath. “Work for you.” And another. “Demon!” he forces it out like a curse, rather than a fact that everyone’s always been aware of and—

Oh.

Oh!

Mephisto snaps upright and stares into the distance as the frustration of loss is flushed out by the rising excitement of a new tactic, new opportunities. He begins to laugh. “I take it back, Father, I am a complete fool!” He continues to laugh and conjures his gloves from thin air and pulls them back on.

Once his laughter has calmed to a wide smile, he relents from Yukio’s chest. “Well, Mr. Okumura, as much as I would love to stay and chat,” he smiles icily at the gasping teenager, “There are a few things I need to collect from the office you most inconsiderately set alight.” He kicks the barely recovered Yukio in the stomach because, well, he’s no saint.

He turns his back on the curled and coughing form of True Cross’s youngest exorcist. “Ta ta for now!” he waves obnoxiously without looking back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a board to reset.”

\---

Shura stands before him, arms crossed over her generous bosom and eyes blazing (metaphorically, of course; she doesn’t hold a candle to the Okumura twins). “Yukio has defected to the Illuminati,” she says, watching him.

Mephisto suppresses the smile that springs up – he has to keep some sense of mystery – and instead affects a vaguely concerned look. “Such a shame. I do hope Lucifer treats him well.” That part’s not even a lie, but it’s entertaining to watch Shura think it is.

“Everything that happens to him, I will take out of your hide tenfold.”

Mephisto grins with every one of his teeth. “I can’t wait,” he says. He should have done this so long ago. He’ll remember for next time: when the world hands you a ticking time-bomb, wind it up and point it in the right direction.


End file.
